He was suspicious. Not the same thing.
The old guy in the alley had five hundred and twenty-seven dollars in his wallet and was dressed to score. Tony remembered his initial impression of trying too hard and anyone trying that hard—not a lot of eighty-year-olds would shoehorn themselves into a pair of tight, low-slung jeans—hadn’t been wandering around randomly.
When he called lunch, Tony reminded everyone to be back in an hour, then told Adam he might be late. That there was something he had to investigate downtown. If Adam believed the investigation was necessary to protect the world from a magical attack, well, Tony wasn’t responsible for Adam’s misconceptions.
Jack Elson could go fuck himself. Tony wasn’t playing at anything. Two men were dead, Valerie had a connection to them both, and she was hanging around Lee.
And he didn’t have a fucking wand.
The drive into Vancouver from Burnaby wasn’t fun, traffic seemed to be insane at any time of the day lately, but Tony wanted the car with him, just in case. In case of what, he had no idea. Stuck behind an accident on McGill Street, he pulled out his phone and realized that of the three people he could call for advice, two of them would be dead to the world—literally—until sunset. His third option, Detective Sergeant Mike Celluci, would likely tell him the same thing Jack had. Stay out of it.
Lee was in it.
So was he.
As the car in front of him started to move, he pocketed his phone and hit the gas.
Gastown was a historic district as well as an area the city was fighting to reclaim and, in the middle of the day in late fall, the only people out and about were a few office workers hurrying back from lunch, a couple of bored working girls hoping to pick up some noon trade, and a man wearing a burgundy fake fur coat passed out in a doorway. The alley didn’t look any better by daylight.
Tony walked slowly past the graffiti and the dumpster and the other debris he hadn’t noticed that night. He walked until he stood on the spot where the old man’s body had lain, checked to make sure no one was watching, and held out his left hand. The scar he’d picked up as a souvenir of the night in Caulfield House was red against the paler skin of his palm. The call wasn’t specific; he had no idea of where the old man’s identification was or even what it was exactly, he just knew it had to exist.
That would have to be enough.
Come to me.
It took Tony a few minutes to realize what he was seeing—that the fine, gray powder covering his palm was ash. He traced the silver line back to a crack where the lid of the dumpster didn’t quite fit. Watched it sifting out and into his hand. There was quite a little stack of it by the time it finished. Mixed in with the ash were tiny flecks of crumbling plastic and what might have been flecks of rust.
The old man had ID with him. Someone had burned it then dusted it over the garbage in the dumpster. Even if they’d looked, the police would never have found it.
Tony flicked his hand and watched the ash scatter on the breeze.
Most modern identification was made of plastic.
It would take more than a cheap lighter to destroy it so thoroughly.
Lee wasn’t exactly surprised to see Valerie standing at the end of the driveway when he headed out to work. He pulled over and unlocked the passenger side door. She stared at him for a long moment through the glass—although, given the tinting, he doubted she could see much—and then, finally, got into the car.
Enclosed, she smelled faintly cinnamon. He loved the smell of cinnamon. Her lips were full and moist, the lower one slightly dimpled in the middle. Her eyes made promises as she said, “I know places we can go where we won’t be interrupted.”
“That’s not why I stopped.”
“That’s why everyone stops.” A deep breath strained the fabric of the dress. “I can give you what you need.”
“I have what I need.” As a line, it verged on major cheese, but it was true. “What do you need?”
“What do I . . . ?” She blinked and the promises were unmade. “No one’s ever asked me that before.”
“I’m sorry.”
She looked startled by the sympathy. He had a feeling no one had ever apologized to her before, either. Slender fingers tugged at the hem of her dress. “I . . . I could use a ride downtown.”
“Okay.” Lee pulled into traffic. “That’s a start.”
Amber snapped her gum and pushed stringy hair back off her face. “So you’re not a cop?”
“No.”
“Or some kind of private dick?”
Tony spread his hands. “I don’t even play one on TV.”
“Then why are you askin’?” She sagged back against the building and yawned. “You don’t look like some kind of religious nutter. What’d this girl do for you that was so fucking great you need to find her?”
“It’s not what she did for me . . . ”
“Ah.” Amber cut him off. “I get it. Jealous boyfriend.” She laughed at Tony’s expression. “Honey, you haven’t looked at my tits once, and even the nutters check the merchandise. And—” her voice picked up a bitter edge “—you turn, just a little, when a car goes by. Enough that a driver could check us both. You’ve got a history. Afraid he’s going to find out about it?”
“He knows.”
“Uh huh.”
Tony had no idea how this had suddenly become about him. “Look, I just need to find Valerie. Reddish brown hair, short blue dress.”
“Black heels? Black sweater, kind of cropped? She just got out of one of them expensive penis-mobiles on the other side of the street,” Amber added when he nodded. “At least someone’s making the rent today.”
Tony turned just in time to see Lee’s car disappear around the corner and Valerie walk into a sandwich shop. He shoved the fifty he’d been holding into Amber’s hand and ran across Cordova, flipping off the driver of a Mini Cooper who’d hit the horn.
The sandwich shop was empty except for the pock-marked, middle-aged man behind the counter.
“The woman who just came in here, where did she go?”
The man smiled, looking dazed. “I didn’t see a woman.”
“She just came in here.”
His smile broadened. “I didn’t see a woman.”
The guy was so stoned he wouldn’t have seen a parade go through. The only other door was behind the counter. When Tony moved toward it, he found himself blocked.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Counter guy didn’t look stoned now, he looked pissed.
“Look, I need to find that woman.”
And the smile returned. “I didn’t see a woman.”
It wasn’t magic, at least not magic Tony recognized, but it wasn’t right.
“I gave her a ride, Tony, what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it.” Tony paced the length of Lee’s dressing room and back again, wishing he had another ten or twenty meters to cover. “It’s just . . . she wants something from you.”
Lee rolled his eyes. “No shit. But I’m not going to give it to her. I feel sorry for her. She’s in a bad situation.” He caught Tony’s wrist as he passed and dragged him to a stop. “You should know about that.”
Except this still wasn’t about him. “I think she had something to do with those two deaths.”
“Then why did she scream that night in the alley? Why did she scream and attract attention to herself if she had something to do with the guy’s death?”
“She screamed because I was already on my way into the alley. She knew she was going to be discovered and screaming would shift suspicion away.”